I'm Sorry
by Dawnstorm101
Summary: DEFINITE HOMECOMING AND POTENTIAL INFINTY WAR SPOILERS WITHIN. Inspired by a snippet of D23 Infinity War footage. The final battle's first casualty is possibly the worst casualty of all. To one person, it definitely is.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So I've been working on a Homecoming fic since before the credits even started rolling when I first saw it on the 7th, but that is just refusing to come together properly. But the Infinity War footage descriptions that I read today... Oh my gosh. I can't even. I NEED INFINITY WAR NOW. But anyway, there was the one scene of a bloodied, possibly dying Peter apologizing to Tony and I just... my imagination ran away and created this bundle of feels. Also, I have zero knowledge of Proxima's powers beyond the vague "she has super-strength and super-speed." I may have overestimated her powers. And gotten her personality completely wrong. I dunno. I don't read the comics; I just obsess over the movies.

Warning: Mentions of suicidal tendencies.

* * *

Tony almost flew faster than his armor could go, desperately fighting off Thanos and his allies. His repulsors fired almost nonstop as he swooped in front of the unarmored and non-superpowered humans, shielding them from almost certainly lethal attacks. His suit was scraped and dented and sparking, and its unmanned siblings lay in pieces across the battlefield, but still he pushed it beyond his limits.

"Thanks," Barton gasped as Tony crashed in front of him, absorbing a blast of energy from the Gauntlet.

Tony nodded as he stumbled back to his feet, his heart pounding a little harder as he noticed the raw terror on the archer's face. Of all the villains they'd faced, all the times he had faced death, Barton had never looked scared. Not until today.

"We'll get through this," Tony tried to promise, but his voice shook and Barton rolled his eyes a little.

"Thanks for trying, I guess. Not that it does much."

Tony shrugged. "Better than nothing, right?"

"You're probably better off telling me to think of my kids," Barton muttered, grunting as he stood back up, brushing filth off his hands.

Tony turned around, searching the battlefield. "Speaking of kids…"

Amidst the ruins, flying bodies, and flashing colors, Tony found him. Peter fought valiantly, his webs firing constantly as he swung around and tried to tie up the villains so the others could get an advantage. Parts of his Iron Spider suit had been blasted to ruin, showing his normal suit beneath, scorched and torn and bloodied.

"I'm keeping an eye on him," Barton promised, loading another arrow.

"You're not very close to him," Tony pointed out, hitting his gloves to jumpstart the repulsors.

"I see better from a distance, remember?" Barton retorted with a faint smirk.

 _"I can hear you guys, you know,"_ Peter broke in, his voice ragged but somehow lighthearted. _"We're all on the same comm. line."_

 _"They're just being sappy old men,"_ Wanda joked from where she stood, flinging up shields and shooting jets of scarlet light.

"Hey!" Tony and Barton exclaimed simultaneously.

The two youngest humans laughed, the sound a brief moment of ease and strength when they were all bleeding and exhausted.

Abruptly, the villain Proxima disappeared from where she was fighting Thor, Quill, and Strange. In the blink of an eye, she was across the battlefield, her spear ready in her hand. With an effortless motion, she stabbed it forward, towards the hero swinging straight towards her new position.

Peter had no time to change course before the spear plunged straight into a hole in his armor – straight into his gut.

"PETER!" Tony screamed. He leapt into the air and darted over, blindly firing his repulsors at the villainess.

Proxima just cackled. "You make your weaknesses too obvious, human."

With that, she threw Peter off her spear and darted away. The teen didn't even grunt as he slammed into a boulder and crashed to the ground. Tony altered course and skidded down beside him, snapping his helmet open and gloves off. With his bare hands, he gently removed Peter's helmet.

"Peter? Come on kid, you're ok," he gasped desperately, carefully turning him onto his back.

Two holes gaped in his stomach, both pouring blood. With shaking hands, Peter tried to cover them, his face already pale and his eyes wide. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered.

Tony pressed his hands down on Peter's, trying to catch his gaze. "No. No, you're not sorry, because you're going to be just fine," he tried to insist, even as his own voice shook.

Peter managed to meet his gaze. "I'm… seventeen, not… stupid," he pointed out, his lips barely moving.

"I know, Pete. You're one of the smartest kids I've ever known," Tony assured him, feeling Peter's blood coat his hands. "Besides me, of course."

Peter's laugh was barely a breath, followed immediately by a weak shudder of pain. "Thanks… Dad."

Agony clutched Tony's heart, squeezing it until it tried to stop beating. It choked him, burned his eyes with tears, weighed his limbs down with guilt.

"Always happy to compliment you, son," Tony rasped, somehow managing to put on a smile. For half a second, the kid managed to smile back.

Suddenly Peter started coughing. His entire body shook with every choke as blood splattered out of his mouth, droplets hitting his face, covering the ground beside him. Tony turned him to his side, moving one hand to support his back.

"Hold on, Pete," he begged. "Just hold on."

Peter just looked at him, his once-excited eyes now full of unimaginable terror.

Tony swallowed back his grief, forcing strength into his expression. "I've got you, Pete. I won't let go."

Peter took a deep breath between coughs, shifting one hand to grasp Tony's. Even though he squeezed with what was probably all his strength, Tony could barely feel it. He struggled to suck in enough air, forcing out a single word. "May."

"I'll take care of her," Tony promised instantly. "And Ned and MJ. I'll do everything I can. Everything. I promise."

With that assurance, Peter gave a final nod. He inhaled one final time. Let his eyes drift shut one final time. Exhaled one final time.

Tucked in Tony's blood-soaked hands, Peter went still.

"Peter?" Tony breathed, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. "Pete?"

His young, lifeless body gave no response.

From the silence burst a scream. Tony pulled Peter against him and howled his grief to the sky. Grief and rage and agony and guilt twisted together inside him, bursting out in waves of sound that clawed his throat to shreds. He knelt in the smoking ruins, clutching Peter's cooling body against him, screaming harder than Wanda had screamed the day she lost her twin.

 _He never even finished high school._

Abruptly, the scream died in his throat. He laid Peter down and snapped his mask and gloves back on, jumping into the air. The battle had raged on while Peter passed on, though some shot a glance at him as he entered the sky. Through the chaos, he locked onto his target.

"You," he snarled, his voice dripping with venom, "should not have killed my son."

With a roar of white-hot rage, he dove to the ground. He barreled forward recklessly, unleashing every single weapon and ounce of energy he had against the alien woman who had killed the closest thing he had to a son. She saw him coming and laughed, swinging up her bloodied spear, pure evil glinting in her gaze as she readied for their fight.

If it killed him, he would not mind.

If he survived… well, he wasn't planning that far ahead.

* * *

 **A/N: So this is now kinda like a choose-your-own adventure thingy.** I kinda like this ending for drama reasons, but there was more I wanted to write, so I made a chapter 2. Like this ending? Don't read on. Want a different ending? Read on.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This was legit just self-indulgence because, as much as I love the drama of that ending, I couldn't leave my precious babies like that. Also, get ready for a small dose of Stephen feels here.

* * *

Even as he poured everything he had into fighting Proxima, Stephen could hear Stark. Everyone could. The battle's first casualty was the battle's only teenager, and of all the screams of pain Stephen had heard, Stark's was the worst. Stark's was the scream that made him understand why Christine would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night with a gasp, covered in cold sweat and tears.

Stark's was the scream that made him remember in crystal clarity the day his sister died.

Stephen's magic flickered as Thor and Quill faltered too. Maximoff screamed a little, probably overwhelmed by Stark's emotions.

Proxima just laughed.

Stephen snarled and flung a spell at her, which she dodged with ease. But Thor flung Mjolnir at her as Quill shot her, and one of them landed a blow. She stumbled backwards, her laughter twisting into a snarl. Stephen smirked and flung more magic at her, hope daring to flicker inside him as he landed more hits. Until Stark spoke again.

 _"You should not have killed my son."_

There was a roar from above, this one holding naught but rage. Missiles and lasers and flames rained down on Proxima, who jumped aside and looked up and laughed again, bringing her weapon to bear. Stephen jerked his gaze skyward and saw Stark racing towards her, vengeance emanating from his every movement.

 _Oh God. He's going to-_

"Stark, no!" he yelled. " _Tony_!"

The billionaire ignored him.

Stephen threw up a portal, redirecting Stark to the empty sky just before he crashed at full speed. He skidded to a halt and whirled around – the mask seemed to glare right into Stephen's soul.

 _"Why did you stop me?"_ he demanded.

"Because I can save him," Stephen gasped. "I can bring Peter back."

Abruptly, Stark froze. _"You can… you can what?"_

"I have a way," Stephen promised, shooting a glance at Thanos. "Just get through this and get me that green Infinity Stone."

Stark hovered for a moment, probably wondering if Stephen was just making stuff up to save his life. But then he nodded sharply, returning to the battle against Proxima at a far less reckless speed. _"Don't die, Strange."_

Stephen let out a laugh of mingled mirth and relief. "Deal."

-MCU-

Somehow, they both survived. Tony and Strange walked off the battlefield, exhausted and bloody and limping – but alive. Tony stumbled straight to where Peter's body still lay, his upturned face white and lips blue. His armor sparked, the only hint of movement on the kid.

"I'm sorry," Tony breathed, taking off his mask and gloves again. His hands still glistened red with Peter's blood. "I never should've brought you here."

Suit shards crunched beneath Strange's feet as he approached. "I get the feeling he would've hated you for that."

Tony flashed a glance at Strange, wondering just how he meant to follow through on his promise. "At least he would be here to hate me."

"And he will be," Strange promised, kneeling down beside him. "Stand back."

Reluctantly, Tony obeyed, watching the sorcerer closely. Strange closed his eyes and took a steady breath before lifting his trembling hands. The weird necklace glowed green in response to his hand motions as he waved them at Peter's body. A circular spell appeared and Strange twisted his hand as if turning a dial.

Slowly, blood began pouring back into Peter's body.

Tony leaned forward, gripping the boulder tightly as color returned to Peter's face. The two gaping holes began to close as the last drops of blood disappeared back into them, even the ones from Tony's hands. As they closed all the way, Peter sucked in a gasp of air. Strange slumped back, closing his eyes and letting out a breath of relief.

Tony scrambled forward, cupping Peter's face with one hand as he patted his stomach with another, checking that the wound had truly healed. "Peter?"

Peter coughed and his eyes flickered open. He squinted, looking around in confusion. "Wha…?" His eyes widened and he slapped a hand against his stomach, sitting up to look down at it. "What the- I was- I was- But now I'm- _What the f_ -"

Tony swept the kid into the tightest hug he'd ever given, muffling Peter's ramblings against his shoulder. "Thank God," he rasped. "Oh thank God."

Peter shifted his head so he could breathe, but he returned the hug, his grip tight enough to squeeze the metal of Tony's suit. "This is weird," he whispered. "This is so weird. I mean, I was- I was-"

Tony patted his back and held the back of his head as Peter started shaking. "We'll get through it, Pete. We will. But for now, let's just go home."

Peter nodded faintly, more than happy to let Tony help him up and guide him to the portal Stephen opened to the compound. "O-ok."

As Barton came up to support Peter from the other side, the archer's other arm around Wanda, Tony glanced back at Strange. "Thank you," he mouthed.

Strange flashed a bittersweet smile, memories flickering through his eyes. "You're welcome," he mouthed back.

* * *

A/N: I also wrote this to indulge canon. Peter's got more movies to star in after Infinity War, after all. Thank goodness. I considered killing Tony in chapter 1 cause he doesn't have the same protection, but I just couldn't. I nearly cried writing Peter's death, let alone Tony's death. If Tony dies in canon... for real, Pietro style... I can't even.


End file.
